


The Princess and the Devil

by Steerpike13713



Series: The Death of Koschei the Deathless [5]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: (after a fashion), Alternate Universe - Fusion, Bonding, Deal with a Devil, Episode s01e10 7:15 A.M., Gen, Grief/Mourning, Loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-17 22:50:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15471864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steerpike13713/pseuds/Steerpike13713
Summary: Snow White has lost the love of her life, not to death, but to an arranged marriage and, in desperation, she seeks out the one man who might be able to offer a magical cure for her broken heart.Everyone who comes to the Deathless gets what they want - they do not always like it.





	The Princess and the Devil

**Author's Note:**

> This is...essentially a finger-exercise. This is the last story in publication order that will deal with Koschei the Deathless in the fairy-tale world rather than the more modern setting of Storybrooke and his cursed identity as Doctor Julian Bashir. As such, I wanted to establish a bit of his dynamic with the Charmings ahead of time - at least, a bit of his dynamic with Snow, although I might take back my previous statement and do another with David, just to figure out where those relationships are coming from going into the Storybrooke section.

The lake was eerily silent, shrouded in mist, its waters black as the pit and, despite the clear skies overhead, they reflected no stars. The boat made no noise as it slid across the water, not even the splashing of the oar. This was not a natural place, and it made Snow’s skin crawl every moment she spent here. But this was where she had to come to forget.

There was a jetty in the middle of the lake, stretching out into the mists with no clear end in sight, for all that Snow had walked all around the lake by daylight and seen no sign of any such thing. She clambered out, set to mooring, and then stopped dead as the boat dipped, just a little, as if a weight had just been added to it.

“It won’t help,” said a quiet voice nearby.

When she looked up there was a man sitting at the stern of the boat, watching her with bright golden eyes. He looked no older than Snow herself, with dark hair and a bony frame, his gloved hands tangled together in front of him. He looked almost fragile, if one did not know that with one wave of his hand, this man could rearrange the fates of nations. The heart of one disgraced princess should pose no greater challenge.

“What won’t?” she said defensively. “You know why I came here?”

“No. But going by precedent, my help tends to cause about as much harm as it cures.”

His voice was soft, and sad, and kind, and against her will, Snow responded. She couldn’t quite seem to help it, for all her childhood lessons on the treachery of mortal sorcerers, and of the Deathless, worst of them all.

He smiled at her, though it was still a little sad, and all at once he was gone from the boat and Snow wheeled- To find him sitting on the edge of the jetty, his booted feet dangling over the water. Not in it, quite – the jetty was, apparently, much higher than she had thought, although she could’ve sworn it had been just an easy hop from her boat a few moments ago.

“So,” the Deathless said, looking up at her from the edge of the jetty and indicating that she should sit beside him. “What do you want from me, exactly? Your father’s kingdom back? That’s not within my power. Your shepherd boy? I’m afraid I’m not in the business of compelling love _or_ lust.”

“He’s a prince,” Snow corrected.

The Deathless’s smile widened a little, as if he were in on a joke. “He’s a sheep-farmer’s son from King George’s lands. So was the late Prince James, admittedly, but this one was _raised_ as a sheep-farmer’s son, and seems to have turned out the better for it.”

Snow stared. The Deathless sighed.

“He didn’t tell you?”

“…no,” Snow admitted. “But it doesn’t matter. I need a cure.”

The Deathless blinked. “…you seem remarkably healthy, all things considered. What is it that ails you, then?”

“A broken heart.”

The Deathless breathed out. “…ah.” He gave a wan sort of smile. “If I knew how to brew a cure for that, I’d have done it centuries ago.”

Snow blinked. “But- But you’re the _Deathless_. You can do _anything_.”

Anything, no matter how unholy, no matter how terrible, things no fairy could or would do, because to do such monstrous things would mean they ceased to be fairies. That was what Snow’s childhood lessons had taught her, anyway.

“ _Almost_ anything,” the Deathless corrected. “I can’t interfere with the passage of time, I can’t resurrect the dead, I can’t compel true love, and even I cannot escape the price of magic.”

“But you can- You can make it stop hurting, can’t you? Take away the pain?”

The Deathless shrugged. “Probably. I wouldn’t recommend it. Not feeling is…well. It starts out that you can’t feel pain, and then sooner or later you stop feeling everything else as well.”

“I don’t want to feel this!” Snow snapped. “I don’t- I can’t stop thinking about him, dreaming about him, wanting him with me. How am I supposed to- to go on with my life, knowing that he loves me too, but that he’s going to marry Midas’ daughter because King George needs their gold?”

Every happy memory she’d once hugged to herself at night in her camps after another day of fighting the Queen’s men, every letter they’d exchanged, every place they’d met in secret before she’d had to turn him away…all of it was tainted now with this awful, hopeless longing. She wanted to return to the forests, to fighting and scavenging and trying to mitigate the worst of the Queen’s tyranny for her people as best she could, and yet she’d spent the last month hiding along in a desolate wood not seeing anyone, because of this? She wanted to live again, with Charming – the nickname would have to do, since James wasn’t his real name after all, and that _stung_ , after how insistent he’d been on it when they met – but if she couldn’t…then she wanted to live. This last month had been torture.

“…make it stop,” she demanded. “I- I can’t live like this.”

“People live like this _every day_ , Princess,” the Deathless said harshly. “And not caring isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

He stared out over the still waters, fumbling something – a bottle – from an inside pocket of his heavy coat.

“Is that it? A potion?” Snow said eagerly. It didn’t matter if he didn’t want to help her, if he didn’t care for her troubles – she’d never expected that – but if he was willing to offer a way…

“Drink it and see,” the Deathless said, holding it out to her.

Anything that looked less like an appropriate vial of magical potion was hard to consider – it was a handsome brass hipflask, of strange design – something from the Seven Deserts, perhaps? Except that she’d never seen designs like these before, or craftsmanship as seamless – and full to the brim with a colourless liquid that smelled strongly of anise. Cautiously, she took a sip, and choked as it burned her throat.

“What- What is that-?” she spluttered, as the Deathless reclaimed his flask and took a deep draught of his own. “Wait…I still remember everything. It didn’t work? What _is_ that stuff?”

“Arak,” the Deathless said, tucking it back into the breast of his coat. “Feeling any better?”

Snow’s mouth was still tingling. “…it’s _very_ strong,” she managed.

“Is it?” the Deathless said, with detached interest. “I suppose I wouldn’t know. I remember I drank a whole barrel of the stuff once. I’d have been…perhaps fifteen.”

Snow stared. It was hard to imagine the Deathless having ever been young. “…really?”

“Yes.” The Deathless smiled reminiscently to himself. “I remember…I ran mad that night. Broke open henhouses, turned penned beasts loose, broke every chain I could find, stole a horse and rode out into the desert until the horse couldn’t carry me any further. I wanted to ride until I reached the end of the world…” he shook his head. “I was young and stupid. As are you.”

Snow bristled. “I’m not-”

“Yes, you are. Don’t worry, you’ll grow out of it. Or die,” the Deathless added, almost as an afterthought. “Well, both, eventually. Hopefully in that order.”

“What would you know about it?” Snow demanded. “Haven’t you ever loved anyone? So much that losing them felt like-”

“Like someone had reached in and ripped your heart out of your chest. Yes. More than once, actually.” The Deathless sighed. “This is your first heartbreak, I’m assuming. I wish I could say it gets easier, but…no. Every time hurts as much as if it were the first. That’s just how love works. A bit like magic, really. You can’t sacrifice someone else’s heart and expect to get the same returns. You have to give your own, and not expect to get it back. That’s what will bring down Regina, in the end. It was what brought down her mother.”

He stared out over the water, and Snow couldn’t say what he was thinking.

“You…you loved someone that much? Then- Then you understand. Why won’t you help me?”

“Because it wouldn’t _be_ helping you! Love, real love, true love? It’s rare as diamonds. Hold onto it, while you can. Even when it hurts. Maybe especially then.”

“…didn’t you ever want it to stop?” Snow asked, her voice suddenly sounding very small, even to her own ears.

“All the time. I want…I want him back. I want him well and alive and happy and by my side. But I can’t have that. Am I supposed to cast away the only thing I have left of him?”

Snow blinked. “Him?”

“Please.” The Deathless’s voice was harsh. “Tell me that it’s a sin and an abomination and I should be ashamed for loving him. I have a whole _pond_ full of people who’ve told me that.”

“No!” Snow said hastily. “No. I mean…and he…he loved you back?”

“I don’t know.”

His gaze had gone distant again, and she wondered how many years or decades or centuries ago this love had been, and what the bride rumour had it the Deathless had taken from somewhere in the south made of a husband still longing for a man so many years dead. Snow stared over the lake, and wondered how any man could bear to grieve that long.

“I…I can’t,” she said quietly. “I- I can’t do it. There are- I have to keep fighting. I can’t let the Queen carry on unchallenged. Not when she’s slaughtering my people.”

“So fight.”

“I- I can’t. I’ve spent the last month hiding, I’ve been too distracted by- by all this-”

“No wonder you’re in this state, then,” the Deathless said, with an infuriating little ‘there you are, then’ sort of nod. “Occupation, it’ll be good for you.”

“Has that worked for you?” Snow snapped, hardly believing her own daring.

The Deathless’s eyes dropped once again to the lake. “Not really.”

“Then why-”

“Because it’ll do more good than what you’re asking!” The Deathless snapped. “ _Please_ , Princess. Turn back.”

“I _can’t_!”

“You won’t,” the Deathless retorted. “It’s not the same thing.”

“All right, then, I won’t! Is that what you need to hear?” Snow glared at him.

The Deathless sighed. “Let the record show I tried,” he said resignedly. “All right, Princess.”

He produced the flask of arak again, and Snow nearly rolled her eyes.

“That trick won’t work a second time.”

“No tricks.” The Deathless bent to scoop up some lake water in the flask, and held it out to her. As Snow watched, the liquid…changed. It was hard to say exactly how, but there was an opalescent shimmer laid on the surface of the water now, and something strange flashing in the depths.

“…and after I drink that, I won’t love him anymore?” she asked, an awful swell of pain running through her. She couldn’t imagine it, what it would be to think of James- of Charming- of whatever his true name was- and _not_ love him.

“Close,” the Deathless allowed, with a grim smile. “After you drink this, you won’t even remember his name. Still think this is a bargain worth the making, Princess? You can still walk away if you want to. It would be better, for all concerned, if you did.”

Snow froze. “…I won’t remember him?” she asked. Not loving him…it hurt, the thought of it, but once it would done, the pain would be over. Not remembering him…losing the sound of his laugh, the warmth of his hands, the stubbornness of his convictions, not only in waking life but in memory too…could she really bear to drink the potion, knowing what she would be giving up?

“It’s like any mortal medicine,” the Deathless said. “You cannot simply amputate an arm and call it cured. You have to close the veins, cauterise the wound, tend to the burns that came from the cauterisation. And love is probably the most powerful magic in this world. It can power a curse, or break one, can offer protection from quite a lot of the darker side of magic and children born of true love have a power all their own. It’s not something that can be lightly thrown aside.”

Snow looked down at the bottle, and thought of Charming. James. Whatever his real name was. Would she ever learn it? If she drank this potion, she would lose even what she already knew of him, and that was…little enough, now she stopped and thought. One chance meeting, letters, a handful of scattered encounters…each one impossibly precious to her. But he was gone. Not dead, but so far beyond her reach there was no question of finding him again. And once it was done…it was defeat, yes, and it was surrender…but when it was done, the pain would be over.

“…I’ll do it,” she said, holding out her hand for the flask.

The Deathless paused. “One, last thing,” he said, “May I?”

“May you-? Ow!”

Without so much as waiting for her to finish, he plucked two long hairs from her head.

“No two loves are exactly alike,” the Deathless said carefully, winding one hair around his finger and dipping the other slowly into the potion. “It makes sense, if you think about it – the qualities you love in him, I might hate, and vice versa. Or if he loves this new bride-to-be, he will love her for different qualities than he loved you, or even if it’s the same things he admires, he will feel it differently, and the reminder of you might be part of that love too. These things are always…complicated.”

Snow blinked. “…then, what’s the other hair for?”

“Payment,” the Deathless said shortly. “Nothing in this world comes without a price. Remember that, if you can, Princess Snow White.”

It was the first time he’d used her full name, and Snow felt a chill go up her spine. “Why do you want my hair?”

“Do you need it, especially?” the Deathless retorted. “I told you, I’m not doing you a kindness by granting this. Sooner rather than later, you’ll wish you never came to me. For that, this is payment enough.”

That brought Snow’s hackles up – ancient he might be, powerful he might be, but no-one was old enough and powerful enough to tell her her own mind – and she took the flask without hesitating.

“They never do listen,” the Deathless said grimly. “Goodbye, then, Snow White. I hope your prize brings you better luck than I expect it will.”


End file.
